


FTL: The Jack

by laraanita



Category: MindCrack RPF
Genre: FTL: Faster Than Light - Freeform, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraanita/pseuds/laraanita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was struck by this idea when watching Millbee's FTL episode where he took Zisteau, Kurt and DocM on a space adventure. This was my first Mindcrack fic, posted on the Salad in 2012, it's been quite the ride since then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FTL: The Jack

Kurt was bent over the shield generator when Zisteau walked in, the doors from medbay sliding open almost silently. The pilot kept right on working, refusing to look up or acknowledge the other's presence. If he did, he'd have to look at his face and ask how the others were doing, how badly they'd been hurt in the attack he'd failed to avoid.

 

He'd let them down. Weston especially. The temporary crew member had barely been with them for a few hours of travel time before Kurt had let him down so terribly. He didn't need to ask Zisteau how he was, not when he'd seen five lifesigns drop to just four while he'd been frantically flying the craft. _Not frantically enough_ , the nasty little voice in the back of his mind hissed. _Your fault, his death is on your hands_. Kurt swallowed his guilt and kept working on patching the the generator.

 

He was relieved beyond measure when Zisteau said nothing and simply began to work alongside him. He didn't think he could handle words right then. They worked in silence, the sound of machinery and tools the only thing filling the room. It wasn't until after the cover was fastened back over the generator and the shields up and running again that Zisteau spoke. The weapons master paused by the doors, glancing back over his shoulder.

 

“It wasn't your fault.”

 

Kurt lifted his eyes to Zisteau's for a moment before looking back to the floor, chest feeling painfully tight as the words sank in. He...wasn't being blamed? “But-”

 

“No. Don't even go there. You did what you could, better than any of us could have done in that seat. If you hadn't, then we'd all be dead. Doc and Charlie are fine and so am I, so you did your job and you did it well.”

 

“I...” The tight band over his chest loosened a little, making it just a little easier to breathe, to think. “...Thank you.”

 

“Don't mention it. That's what, three, four times you saved my butt out here?” Zisteau gave a brief laugh. “I definitely owe you a few drinks when we make it out of here.” Something in his voice gave Kurt the feeling that it wasn't just something Zisteau was saying in passing, he actually meant it. It felt strange to actually be invited out for something, it wasn't exactly an offer he was used to.

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm up for that.” Kurt said at last, painfully aware that he'd kept Zisteau waiting for an answer while he'd just stared in surprise. “Sure.”

 

Zisteau shot him a grin and Kurt suddenly couldn't breathe again, this time for an entirely different reason. “I'll hold you to that, Captain.”

 

-0-

 

They were at the repairs again, this time the pair of them in space suits as the attempted to repair the hole blown in the side of the ship.

 

“So...” Zisteau's voice came through the comlink in the helmet of Kurt's suit. “A hermit -?”

 

“Don't wanna talk about it.” Kurt said tersely. “Just...the next time I think it's a good idea to pick up crazy hermits living in the middle of nowhere, shoot me. Or throw me out the airlock. Anything to stop me making another stupid decision like this again. I just seem to be full of them lately.”

 

“Aw c'mon, you had no idea he'd do that. Anyone with decency would have tried to help him out.” Zisteau tried his best to cheer him up, pausing in welding a piece of scrap over part of the giant hole. “At least we have an excuse to repaint in here now.”

 

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. Just a little.

 

-0-

 

“Zisteau! Open fire!” Kurt jerked the controls to the right, desperately trying to avoid the drone circling and firing on them. The ship groaned, metal screaming in protest at the manoeuvre. There was a sudden jerk and the ship spun out of control for a second. Still clinging to the controls, Kurt saw one of the engines go tearing past the view screen ahead of him. 

 

“Oh no.” 

 

“ _Kurt I can't – the weapons are down and the tools are in the shield room – the door sealed-”_

 

“Oh no no no.”

 

“ _I'm sorry-”_

 

There was another explosion and Kurt watched the lifesigns drop as Doc was sucked out into space. Charlie was already dead but Kurt had been trying his very best not to think about it while he tried to save the others.

 

“ _Shit, that was Doc – Kurt listen to me.”_

 

“It wasn't supposed to end like this...” 

 

“ _Listen to me.”_ Zisteau said firmly, static lacing the line as the ship began to lose the battle to keep systems online. _“Don't blame yourself, okay?”_

 

“We were supposed to go to a bar and get drinks...” Kurt said thickly, staring out the view screen ahead. He could see the drone coming back for another pass, see the pirate ship loading up another missile to shoot their way.

 

“ _I mean it Kurt, this wasn't your fault. Promise me you won't blame yourself for this.”_ Dimly, Kurt picked up the sound of flames over the line, hearing a barely suppressed cough from his weapons expert.

 

“...What would you have bought?” He found himself asking, watching the warning lights begin to flash around him as the pirates locked on to the crippled ship.

 

“ _What?”_

 

“Drink. What drink would you have bought?”

 

“ _...Single malt whisky.”_ There was one of Zisteau's brief laughs, badly distorted by static and the background flames. _“Yeah...classy drink for a classy guy.”_

 

“Single malt. I like that.” Kurt leaned back in the captain's chair and closed his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to be calm. “I'll have one too.”

 

“ _You bet. See you at the bar, Captain. Save me a seat?”_

 

“You bet.” 


End file.
